Do It For The Plot

Left – circa 2018: A severely depressed version of myself, trying to smile through the pain so I wouldn’t alarm others.
Right – circa 2021: A version of me that knows God so much better than ever before. A version of me, ready to live. Thankful for all of God’s yes’s, no’s, and redirections.

As Christians, we often talk about Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday but so seldom do we really delve into that Silent Saturday. How defeated and hopeless Jesus’ followers must have felt. What an oversight we’re making.

If I’m being completely honest, I really didn’t want to talk about my own version of Silent Saturday. It’s not the easiest memory or feeling to revisit. Plus, I’ve only just started this blog and feel like my intro post already threw me into the deep end of the vulnerability pool and I just started swimming. But God has been nudging me to share this, and I finally agreed to stop dragging my feet.

I mentioned in my first post, Do It For The Plot: How It Started & Why It Matters, some of the heaviness I felt when I first started to realize my life plans weren’t in my control the way I thought. But I didn’t really acknowledge the darkness that came with that. I was weighed down by so much.

Anxiety. Disappointment. Anger. Sadness. Loneliness.

I was overwhelmed with so many emotions that I couldn’t even tell you when the depression set in. Even now, years later, I can’t place the exact moment but it crept in like a small, leaky faucet that ends up flooding an entire level of the house. I tried really hard to fight it. Probably one of the hardest battles I’ve ever fought in my life but it still almost overtook me.

Depression has a way of isolating you even when you’re surrounded by people. At first, I would still go out with friends, joke, laugh, do all the things. But eventually, that required more energy than I had. So, at some point, I just stopped showing up. I didn’t want anyone to know I was struggling but pretending was exhausting and only made me feel worse.

Toward the end of 2017, things had gotten so bad that I would end every night by praying that God please not let me wake up in the morning. If life was going to feel like this forever, I just knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to endure it. Then morning would come, and I’d feel even more disappointment and sadness. I just didn’t understand what was happening.

I’ve always believed in God. My family isn’t the “in church every Sunday” type, but we all know God and consider ourselves Christians. I had my first personal encounter with God in 4th grade. I was in a car accident with an 18-wheeler that hit us from behind, pushing our car into a busy intersection where more cars proceeded to hit us. I was in the back seat and took the brunt of the multiple impacts.

It’s one of those accidents doctors don’t expect you to walk away from. That’s what they were telling my parents at the hospital. But right before the 18-wheeler hit us, I heard a voice in my head telling me to ask for help, so I said, “God, please help me.” I blacked out after that. I don’t remember being hit by the 18-wheeler or any of the other cars. I woke up in the hospital strapped to machines and pissed that my parents weren’t in the room. (I’ve always been a bit demanding..my parents still call me their warden, lol.)

Turns out they were in a meeting with the doctors, discussing how things might turn out for me. But besides a broken rib and a collapsed lung that required an emergency procedure so I wouldn’t drown in my own blood, I walked away from that accident with just a few minor cuts. A few days later, I was back home. So like I said, I knew God was real and could do the most amazing things but I didn’t understand why He wasn’t doing them for me anymore. And no matter how much I prayed, I felt like He never spoke back.

Eventually, I left grad school. My mom was starting to worry and considered medical intervention, but our family has some past trauma with medical exploitation of mental health issues in previous generations, so she was hesitant. She decided I at least needed to be close to family. I thank God for her.

Things didn’t magically get better that very next day once I was back. I was so broken that, at one point, I considered injecting myself with my stepdad’s insulin to end it all. But I was so broken, I didn’t even attempt it—not because I didn’t want to, but because I thought I’d probably even fail at that. I was just stuck in the oblivion.

Looking back now, I can see how God was slowly putting me back together, piece by piece. Through my two friends in ATL and Vegas who would talk to me for hours during the day until I got a job. They didn’t know how bad things were… we were just all in life transitions and had schedules that gave us time for lots of girl talk. Then came the job, where I met so many amazing and kind-hearted people. They’ve poured into me and helped shape the success I had when I later enrolled into UAB’s OT program. They continue to mentor me even now in my career. The opportunities that have found me effortlessly since then wouldn’t have happened without them. I know that for certain.

Then there was the extra quality time I got to spend with my family especially my dad. I’ll always cherish those moments, which wouldn’t have happened if I had stayed in school out of town. And church, where God slowly helped me see Him in a more personal way, not just through the transactional lens I had before: Follow the rules, get blessed.That’s such a big mistake so many Christians make.

So even though, on the outside, I looked like a do-gooder, prissy, privileged Black girl with everything a girl could ask for it was a different story inside. It’s not lost on me that not many people can say their mom surprised them with the exact Camaro they casually pointed out months earlier at the mall, saying, “This is supposed to be my car” especially when the car she had already bought a few years prior for my Sweet 16 was still in perfect condition. I knew I was blessed financially comfortable thanks to hardworking parents, surrounded by people who loved me deeply but depression fogs your mind into a blurry haze.

It’s like you can see the pieces, but in your mind everything feels shattered and you have no idea how to put it all back together.

The good thing is: we don’t have to do it alone. God is infinite, and yet we often limit Him to needing to hear Him audibly. But He works in so many other ways. Sometimes it’s the friend who checks in without being asked. The coworker who takes you under their wing. The family member who hugs you a little longer than usual on the day you didn’t even realize you needed it.

If you can use whatever strength you have left to hold on just a little longer, eventually those trickles of love start to break through that wall of darkness and help you see the light again.

Sometimes that Silent Saturday can feel like it’ll never end.

But Resurrection Sunday came.
And yours can and will come too.

Remember some of the best stories are still unwritten so live boldly, embrace the unexpected, and make sure your life story is worth the MF plot!